A Dream of Peace
by Askari Knight
Summary: Liam only wanted to be left alone, to practice his craft and study magic at his own pace. But it seems the world has no intention of honoring his wishes, consistently thrusting him into abnormal situations. How will he adapt? Can he?


_**Chapter 1**_

_Sunday, June 5__th__, 2011 – 8:43 PM_

He relaxed in his chair, one hand idly combing Korse's dark fur while the other held a mug of cooled chamomile. The large dog's tail beat softly on the carpet – one of many reasons against bare floors – and he listened intently as the couple on the couch explained their proposition.

"-and that is why we believe you would make a wonderful addition to our Order," the one on the right said. Classical Aryan features – chiseled jaw, blond hair, blue eyes – he also possessed the associated haughtiness. His manner and tone implied he didn't believe Liam to be much of a benefit, or so the younger man's cynicism led him to believe. To Liam's eyes his nimbus shimmered about him like gem-studded curtains, ready to billow open in a moment.

Mr. Tucker was a liar, but he was good at it, and he didn't waste time with a life story. He wanted Liam to have a persona he could use when dealing with him, one that did not create a sympathetic link between them. Not that Liam could use such magic…yet.

His accomplice, however, was a bit more of a mystery to their host. She dressed the part of "elegant Asian businesswoman," dark hair braided and draped over one grey-clothed shoulder, but she called herself "Sarah Kisagi." Her nimbus was rather more subtle: the appearance of a necklace of whispering skulls about her neck where physically there was nothing.

Liam assumed the alias was bogus, if only because her partner hadn't reacted when she spoke the name. For the society into which these people were trying to ensnare Liam, real names are no-no concepts. Nobody knows anybody else's real name unless they grew up with one another or knew each other pre-Awakening.

Earlier Liam had considered having the discussion in his bedroom, simply to upset the natural order of things by making them sit on the bed. Both Nick and David had objected, saying it would set a poor precedent. They were right – though getting Liam to admit it would require a team of wild bison – and here they were: sitting and drinking tea.

How marvelously civilized.

These two were from the Silver Ladder, the most political of the five Orders. From what Liam understood, they were trying to institute some kind of benign dictatorship with themselves at the apex. He didn't really follow or share sympathies, which was a step back from the first and previous Order to court me.

That bunch had played the part of Eden's serpent, tempting him with knowledge. They'd even taught him a couple formulaic spells they called "rotes." Liam had been interested initially, but as he learned more about the organization – particularly their "knowledge is only for the worthy, therefore just us" standpoint – Liam realized it wasn't exactly my cup of tea.

"I require a gesture of good faith to consider the matter." Liam spoke with greater calm than he felt. "You're asking me to make an incredible commitment against time already taken up by my day job with little to no financial gain to offset the losses. If you're serious about wanting me to join you in your cause, you'll have to satisfy either my materialistic requirements or my educational."

"Many mages are able to balance their new lives." Mr. Tucker pointed out, an answer without answering.

"I am not 'many mages'." Liam spoke with a clipped voice. "I assume that many mages either are paid salary or have the mystical skills necessary to fool their superiors that they are indeed still working and being productive when they are actually off being magical. My income is client-based, and I'm already stretching my availability as is to take advantage of the fact that my advantages allow me to work longer and harder than others in my profession."

"You are a masseur, correct?"

"Massage therapist. What I am makes little difference. You are either interested in me or this is merely a waste of time that could be put to far better use." Liam gave Korse's head a slow scratch, and he thumped his tail twice in rapid succession against the floor. An obvious signal sent, Liam set his down as a large timber wolf padded forward out of the shadows afforded by single standing lamp in the corner. He sat beside the young man's chair and raised his hackles as Liam placed a hand on his head, as though he were perfectly domesticated.

Even unaccustomed to visual cues Liam could not have missed their reflexive recoil. His guests kept hidden what they made of the development, but Liam's hope was they would realize they no longer outnumbered him…if they ever truly had with Korse's presence.

Liam studied their faces for signs of surprise and was rewarded by the slightest tightening of expression. He'd caught them off-guard, though in so doing he had tipped his hand for the next Order to approach.

"I believe the point is well-made," Kisagi stated formally, her accent belying English as a second language at least. She stood, leaving untouched the tea Liam had so generously poured for her. The young man wondered if in her culture doing so was a grievous insult. Perhaps remaining seated while a guest stood was as well.

"Indeed," added Tucker, also standing. He refolded his jacket and held out his hand.

_No need to make them total enemies,_ Liam thought, taking his hand after a moment. Warm and a little clammy, so the shed wolf hair stuck like glue – the stuff's almost as bad as cat hair.

A symbolic victory.

"Perhaps we'll meet again," he continued, and Liam withdrew his hand.

"Preferably not." Tucker looked surprised at the off-handed tone of Liam's comment. Liam pointedly looked at the hall, where a pair of armed men stood in Twilight, rocking back as he stared straight at them. The young man met Tucker's eyes as he expanded. "I disapprove of bullying, and your tactics here tell me more about the kind of people the Ladder churns out than any words you could possibly speak to the contrary." The man stiffened and turned to go, his face taking on a pleasantly rose hue. Liam saw them to the door, but just had to get in that last twist of the knife. "Inform whoever wishes to approach next that I will only meet on equal footing. Good evening."

Liam closed the door and leaned against it, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as the four mages walked away. Knuckling his eyes as he dropped the spell that enabled him to see some Twilight-bound entities, he tried to ignore the sickening creak and crack of bones from the living room.

Gentle, human footsteps padded toward him and a pair of hands removed his from his eye sockets.

"You'll damage your eyes doing that." Nicolas cautioned, taking a step back to allow Liam room to pass by him if so desired. The subtle gesture was appreciated. "You did fairly well, all things considered…but we talked about the hand-on-the-head thing. The wolf doesn't like it, and it's a patronizing gesture regardless."

"Apologies." Liam smiled wanly, taking the proffered path past his lover and into the living room. He sat down heavily in his chair and gulped down the rest of his cooled tea. "I'm just not sure what to do when you come up beside me. Should I ignore you and try to intimidate them with my apparent indifference toward the gigantic wolf-monster sitting down beside me? A gaze of affection, perhaps?"

"Let's stick to ignoring me. The latter might make them think you're into bestiality."

"Oh, we can't have that, now, can we?" They chuckled at the shared joke. "There are days when it feels like I'm just jumping from one body of assholes to another. The Mysterium, for instance. They've been collecting knowledge for two thousand years, minimum. I don't see a noticeable dent in wait times for hospitals, and I don't see the Ladder stepping in to implement its oh-so-grand ruling system in places that could really use it."

"Such as?"

Liam twitched, startled. "Such as what?"

"What kinds of places could really use the Silver Ladder's reformatting of government?"

"Oh, the Middle-East for one. China, for another."

"So, foreign countries whose governments you deem too barbaric?"

"I…guess?" Liam fought and lost against his rising blush. Making sweeping generalizations based on little to no information was a habit he was trying to break. "Maybe it's their respective paradigms that I have problems with."

"Perhaps." Nicolas leaned down to take the mug and planted a kiss on Liam's brow. "Go to bed. I'll clean up and join you in a bit."

"Thanks." Liam murmured, grasping his hand and pressing it against his cheek. It was strong and a little rough. Liam had found him not long after his Awakening, running from a pack of what he called "the Pure." He wanted little to do with werewolves of either stripe – Pure or Forsaken – though his motives for maintaining any contact with them were identical to Liam's: information and education. For the most part mages seemed little more than spoiled children who belonged to an elitist club with separate rules and regulations.

_Any given mage can solve a host of problems in an area, but they fight amongst themselves for resources made scarce through their squabbling. I hate that…it's embarrassing to call myself a mage when they limit themselves through their greed and pride! They make themselves into weak little groups that are all the more easily picked off._

Liam sighed as he shrugged off his clothes and climbed into the bed…well, more onto it, as it was merely a mattress on the floor. Standard beds were too high for him to rest comfortably upon.

_Tomorrow's another day,_ Liam told himself as he began drifting off. _I'll think about the two that have approached me so far. Well…the Mysterium, at least. They're more knowledge-oriented. I don't really give a shit about the Ladder save that they stay out of my business._

Nicolas joined Liam not long before he drifted off completely, and held him as they fell asleep.

_Thursday, June 9__th__, 2011 – 11:28 AM_

"And that's everything." Liam spoke in a quiet voice, placing a gentle hand on his client's shoulder. "You can go ahead and get dressed when you're ready. I'll be out at the desk."

He paused by the door to wipe his hands on the damp cloth he kept for just that purpose, grabbed the client's chart and made certain to close the door behind him. Within he could hear the slow sounds of the woman gradually getting up out of the near-slumber state into which he'd put her.

A grin spread across his face as he took slow, measured steps toward the front desk and plopped himself into the chair behind it. With chart in hand Liam drew a new form out of the drawer and proceeded to copy the information onto it. The previous incarnation was getting a little too ragged and sloppy with notes written wherever there was room and much-abused from a lot of handling. So he cleaned it up a bit.

_I'm so different from how I once was,_ Liam thought with just a hint of derision. _I was so content to let things be sloppy and get rundown._ His client came out of the treatment room with a beatific expression on her face.

"How're you doing, Maggie?" He asked her, adding to his thoughts. _I imagine a cross-country trek on foot like after my Awakening would change anyone. I learned how much better it is to be organized than to let everything be haphazard._

"Magnificent, Liam," the middle-aged woman smiled broadly, twisting her back from side to side. "Even that old ache in my leg is gone. You must have magic fingers!"

_You don't know the half of it._ "Why thank you! I guess I've just got the talent. Would you like to book another appointment?"

"Oh, I don't know when would be best."

"Ideally a massage every day is the best bet, but if it's just general relaxation you're looking for I suggest once every couple weeks to a month. Monthly is usually the more affordable option, however."

"Money's no object, I assure you." Maggie gave Liam a reassuring smile. "Now, what do I owe you for this session?"

After the transaction was completed and the client left, Liam cleaned the room in a flurry of practiced movement: removing the sheets from the table, disinfecting the vinyl surface, placing fresh sheets onto it, dumping the dirties in the laundry sink to soak in minimally bleached water, ensuring that Maggie hadn't left anything behind – she forgot a hairbrush, which I labeled with some paper and tape – and otherwise making the place presentable.

He heard the door open and set off the rapid triple-beep alarm installed a month after setting up the clinic. Too many patients had been missed because he didn't hear them enter.

"Just a moment, please." Liam called out, widening the window enough to set a fan into it. The bleach fumes were getting a bit much, even with less than a quarter-cup in the sink. It wouldn't do for a client to have a bad experience because of the bleach. After that he went out and had a look at whoever was waiting.

Two young girls – perhaps mid-teens – giggled when they saw him and whispered at each other.

"I told you he was cute," the shorter of the two said to her friend, her voice not quite quiet enough for Liam to miss.

_Why must these people bother me?_ He wondered, face frozen into an expression of neutral friendliness as he wracked his brain for where he had seen this female before. _Ah, right…she's George's daughter. He brought her in last month when he made his appointment. I really hope she's only here on a fact-finding mission, and not making an appointment. I'm really not in the mood to work with teenage girls._ "Hello, may I help you?"

"Yeah, I was wondering if you have a student discount thing?" George's daughter asked. _Oh, thank fuck for small favors._

"One moment," Liam said, stepping behind the desk. A barrier between the three improved his mood significantly and his face stopped aching from effort. He pulled out a brochure from the very visible stand they were displayed in and handed it to her. "This will tell you all my fees, as well as give you an idea of the typical availability I have."

The girl read it over for a few moments before pointing out what she felt was an inconsistency.

"This says you're only available in the day, from seven to two. Is that right?"

"Those are the hours between which I perform massages," Liam answered. "I'm available for scheduling only until four-thirty."

"I see. Could you book me in for one?" _FUCK!_

"What day?"

"Today, duh." The girl turned to her friend and giggled again, as though it were simply uproarious. After a moment of thought Liam replied, though he probably could have afforded to be a little less "Mr. Professional". Still…this was exactly the sort of situation for which he maintained records.

"I am not required to serve anyone who treats me with disrespect," Liam stated in a voice carefully controlled to be neutral. "I now ask that you remove yourself from this building and the associated lot. If you do not comply, the police will be notified that you have trespassed. Beginning as of this date you are banned for a period not to be less than one year in duration."

"Wait, what?" the taller girl asked.

"Your friend has decided that I am not worth the minimal effort necessary to treat with respect and dignity." Liam explained it in a slightly warmer voice, now that he wasn't dealing with the bitch who'd offended him. "I am offering her a chance to remove herself peaceably, with her own dignity intact."

The shorter one spluttered for a moment before declaring, "I'll report you for this!"

In response Liam pointed straight up. They followed my finger until their eyes landed on the security camera, its black eye staring straight at them. He then pointed at the ceiling behind the two of them and they craned their heads backward.

"I record everything that goes on in this room," Liam stated calmly. "You will note the sticker on the window beside the door, indicating that this facility is monitored by a closed circuit television system. Therefore such monitoring is legal. These cameras are also equipped with microphones, permitting the recording of any sound in this room. You have been rude to me and I have asked you to leave the premises, and now you've threatened to report me. It is not possible to damage me in any way for asking you to leave after extreme rudeness." He allowed himself a thin, grim smile. Let them wonder what it was for. _I'm gonna tattle-tale! Nyah-nyah!_ It was a bit of internalized immaturity, but her father would have to know about this. Confidentiality wasn't an issue as she was no client of his, and quite frankly she needed a bit of discipline.

The girl turned several shades of pink and red and gaped like a fish out of water when Liam reached for the phone and began dialing the local police department. She flounced out angrily before he pressed the final button, so he set the receiver down and eyed the remaining girl.

"Feel free to make an appointment if you wish," Liam said gently, softening his expression. "I only bite when bitten."

"Maybe later," the girl said, fleeing. Liam nodded in mute acceptance, checking the time and his next appointment.

_Little before my noon appointment…may as well study up a bit in preparation. He was complaining of pains in his leg when he made the appointment…possibly sciatica. I'll identify and correct if I can…no. I'll just identify today and suggest some exercises and stretches, then fix it with the next appointment. I'll push for next week…that's more realistic._ Rubbing his face vigorously, Liam leaned back for a moment. _Shouldn't have done that with Maggie…it's bad for business, and too many miraculous cures will make me an object of suspicion. One wrong comment dropped by a Sleeper could bring the Guardians swooping down on me. "How dare you use magic in so banal and selfish a manner?"_ He snorted derisively, glaring a hole through the front door. _Where do they draw the line? How do they determine that there is a line? The Mysterium envoys gave me a copy of the local Lex Magica, so I know I can't do anything flashy…but where do the Guardians stop? Eye of the Dragon…the watchers, internal police organization. Gestapo._

"Gah!" Liam gave himself a light slap. "Enough! No sense in worrying about it." He had to be very careful about exactly what he said, even while alone. The cameras would record his words, and he couldn't delete the material without the act being suspicious should the need to present it as evidence arise.

Pity.

He studied a booklet of techniques specific to lower back problems while he waited, and started when the phone rang. A quick glance at the time – one minute till the hour – gave him an idea as to who was calling…although the caller ID said "Unknown Name, Unknown Number."

Groaning internally, he picked up the receiver and said in as cheery a voice as he could manage, "Good day, Elysian Massage Clinic, Liam speaking. How may I help you?"

The caller was who he anticipated: his next client.

"Hi, this is Brad Heinrich…I'm not going to be able to make it in today."

"Alright." Liam said evenly. _There goes my noon appointment._ "As I explained when you made the appointment, there is a twenty-dollar fee for canceling an appointment without a day's prior notice. This will be debited from the account you used last time within the next twenty-four hours. If the transaction is declined, a bill will be mailed to you with the receipt and you will have one week to make the payment." After a moment's pause for breath, he continued. "If I may ask, what is the reason you cancelled your appointment today?"

"It's…personal. That bank account is empty, so I'll bring you the cash tomorrow. Is that alright?"

"That's fine," Liam replied. _So he's either hung over or too busy with one of his twinks. Bastard…_ "I'll see you tomorrow then, and hopefully you'll be able to make your next appointment, should you choose to make one. Have a pleasant day." With that he hung up and emphasized the gesture of biting my tongue. Liam then put all his sheets in the washer, with approximately a half-ton of fabric softener – nothing worse than crisp sheets – and settled down in his secretarial niche, waiting for someone to come in while he nibbled away at a salad and studied.

He was just getting into the juicy bits about the cervical vertebrae and associated musculature when the door rang, and he looked up to find a man staring down at him with a considering expression. He stood within the upper echelons of average height, and there was little about his stance to suggest threat…but Liam felt the hair on the back of his neck try to rise anyway as the stranger's nimbus revealed itself: an illusion of banked flame limning his form.

_Mage._

Almost automatically Liam raised a shield specific to magic, praying it would be enough to counter anything he might toss Liam's way. He did **not** trust unannounced mages at all.

The stranger didn't react to the spell, though as a mage he should have been able to sense the working.

Liam took a deep breath. "Hello, can I help you?"

"You are Liam Faren, yes?" His voice was deep and a bit rough. It sounded a bit like he'd been smoking for most of his life. It matched his dark, curly hair and beard, the latter of which bore nicotine stains as evidence toward the cause of his coarse voice. Liam answered only with a nod. "I would like to speak with you about matters best left unspoken in public."

"One moment." Liam stood up and went into the supply room within which he had had the electrician install controls for the recording devices. It was a useful piece of kit…he could even set a timer, so it could reactivate on its own.

He set it for five minutes.

"This is as private as it's going to get," Liam said as he came back out. The man hadn't moved, and Liam took his seat at the desk once again. "You have a little less than five minutes to state your business, mage." This startled the man, for he took a step back, and his eyes widened slightly.

"My, my, you can tell with look who's a mage and who's not? That is most interesting." Liam gave him a flat stare, silently daring him to digress further. "Yes, business. I understand you are in the market for a teacher."

"Correct." He considered further words, but decided to let his answer stand alone.

The man plastered a condescending smile on his face. "Excellent. The reason I'm here is that I require assistance only you can provide…what with your unique position, and all. You see, Chicago is lacking in apostates such as yourself."

"As I understand it, the rest have been driven away." The mage looked at Liam for a moment before continuing, likely discarding whatever pretty speech he'd had planned.

"I need an apostate to acquire something for me. Involving a mage belonging to an Order would be counterproductive to my goals, so I need someone neutral."

Liam ticked off items on his fingers as he listed them. "What do you need, where should I look, and what are you going to pay me with?" Resting his chin on his hands Liam forced his expression to soften into as neutral a visage as he could manage. "In order, if you please."

"I require an object in the possession of another mage, one Sylvan by name. He owns an antiquities store downtown called 'the Golden Key'. As I'm certain is obvious, it's a direct correlation to the Obrimos Watchtower." Explaining something so obvious as that seemed a patronizing gesture to Liam, but he didn't permit his expression to change. "I am willing to instruct you in an Arcanum, or alternatively: a formalized spell you have the capability to understand."

"Very good." Liam held his thumb and index finger up and squinted at the strange mage through the tiny space between them. "But you missed one detail. You said you wanted me to collect an object. You failed to define what sort of object. Tick-tock, remember?"

"It is a small, slender rod, perhaps a foot in length and a half-inch in diameter. Deep brown, nearly black in color, with a glossy finish."

"Any resonance I should be aware of?" Liam leaned back, finger steepled. The mage hesitated before answering, his expression somewhat nervous.

"There is minimal Spirit-resonance, and I believe it currently possesses the ability to hold a small quantity of spiritual power."

Liam tilted his head to the side. _Why do I get the impression he's hiding something? I'll examine it if I find it, and I certainly won't be touching it until I check it out._ Aloud, he said "Fine. How do I contact you when I acquire it? And what's your shadow name?"

"Fjord. I'll contact you." Fjord turned to leave.

"Just...one last thing," Liam said casually. "Repeat the deal in the form of an oath, or I won't be performing the task."

Fjord looked at him sharply, and it was obvious he almost just left. His need was great, though, and he complied with the request.

"I vow to teach you – Liam Faren – the mysteries of any one Arcanum within my repertoire that you choose or one formal spell applicable to your current Arcana knowledge should you succeed in delivering the requested object. As I say, so shall it be."

Liam noted Fjord's nimbus stirring a little as the last word faded, but otherwise there was nothing particularly overt on his end.

His shield reacted, however, siphoning a bit of mana from his reserves to fuel silent, silver flames as they ate…something. Liam was only aware of them because the spell was his and it had been triggered, but what it'd eaten was unknown.

"Clever boy." Those were Fjord's final words as he retreated out the door, and as the door shut Liam heard the faint _click_ of the microphone timer ending. Sound recording was back online, and Liam had plenty of time before his next appointment, to study up on techniques to avoid forcing her to lay on her belly while with child.

_Need to pick up a maternity cushion,_ Liam noted, jotting down the necessity on a notepad, as well as the name "Golden Key". He'd remember the description, but names were always a tricky. _No Order-affiliated mages, eh? I'll bring Nicolas along if he's not busy with anything tonight. David…can't really do much with him…he's in with the Mysterium. I'll ask if he knows about Fjord…and the decorum surrounding casting spells on others without permission, though I think I already know the answer._

The door swung open again, but Liam's greeting died on his lips as he regarded the newcomer. He was a tanned Caucasian and certainly younger than the mage – probably mid- to late-teens – but his flesh appeared to have been ravaged by hunger and disease, giving him the appearance of premature old age. Added to that his clothing hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine in years, it seemed…although the tiny golden crucifix necklace gleamed as though newly polished. If the kid had any body-fat Liam would have been greatly surprised, though his baggy garb was less than revealing. His nimbus was similarly grotesque as half-rotten and gnarled vines wound about his neck and limbs. They seemed to sprout from a phantasmal gouge in his chest.

_What's with all these mages today?_ Liam wondered, tracing the young man's form carefully. His eyes were drawn to the right hand the kid held behind his back. He didn't know the spell to see around corners so he didn't know for certain what the younger mage held, but from all the movies he'd seen it often wasn't a good thing. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," the kid sneered, bringing his hidden arm up to point a gun at Liam. "You can die, demon." The first shot grazed his shoulder, and Liam certainly wasn't stupid enough to stay still with a maniac firing bullets at him. He ducked behind his desk, thanking all that was holy for the hardwood exterior. Once he had the barrier between them he spared a few seconds to cast another Shield, this one shoring up his body's durability. _Why-oh-why don't I follow David's advice? He told me it's a good idea to cast the defensive spells at the beginning of the day, but no-o-o-o-o! I had to be all tough and resisting and HOLY FUCK!_ Those last words were for the next bullet that penetrated Liam's desk and struck his ribcage. It didn't penetrate the flesh, but it felt like it cracked a rib. _Okay, stationary-but-hidden sucks. Let's try moving target._

Liam slid away from the desk and – crouching low – moved as fast as his legs would propel him. The kid had been approaching the desk so he didn't see Liam immediately, but once he had cleared the corner Liam lunged upward, driving his shoulder into the younger mage's abdomen.

The kid barely noticed.

"Ah, fuck," Liam cursed as the brat backhanded him with an almost casual gesture. It sent Liam flying through the closed front door – another fucking expense – to land and roll down the front walk and onto the front lawn. _Strength and durability…Life? Maybe. Let's have a look-see._ Liam invoked magesight using the basics of Prime while he dashed to the side and hid behind one of the dense shrubs lining the front walls of my clinic. As the spell settled in place Liam could feel the pressure from it and the other two as they jostled for position in a Pattern not strong enough to stably support more than two. It was immensely distracting, but just as the pressure started to become painful Liam banished the shield against magic. This opponent had only used physical effects so far, so there was no sense keeping up anything designed to counter magic. _Now he's gotta come outside to see me…he won't want to risk his "demon" getting away._

The kid came out as predicted, and looked around with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Liam could also see the spells he'd woven about himself. One was easily identified as a mirror of the armoring spell Liam himself wore – and just as fragile – though the other was less immediately identifiable. Liam was able to determine that it was Life-based, but not much beyond that. His gun had Spirit-magic enhancing it…I had very few options right now.

_I hate not having a choice._ Liam glared at the kid, then concentrated on the Pattern of his Shielding spell. He was strong, yes, but he wasn't necessarily skilled. Liam could see the mystical fibers holding it together, but they weren't very well-woven. _If I had time, I could pull on that thread there, and it'd fall apart like cooked spaghetti. However…what if I made him an exception to the spell's effect?_ Liam made a plucking gesture, as though pulling at a loose string to symbolize disassembly, and the kid swung in the shaman's direction as he expended a small quantity of mana to fuel the spell. _FUCK!_ Liam cursed as he failed and his mystical "grasp" slid right off the thread. The kid began walking in Liam's direction. _Front door's locked, nobody's home…Korse! No, Nicolas took him for a trip around town….fuckfuckfuckfuck._

Liam made the plucking gesture again, but the kid's movement made the Pattern shift as well, and the shaman almost swallowed his tongue when a bullet pierced the bush right beside his head. _Come on, one last chance!_ Liam offered a prayer as he pinched his fingers together once more, and the parts of the spell that held it together came loose. Liam almost cried for joy as the Shielding effect fell apart.

Fortunately, the kid stopped and looked a little dumbfounded, and while he paused Liam took advantage of that and swiped a finger through the cut on his shoulder to wet it with blood. Slapping his hands against the lawn Liam cast his will wide. Reality accepted the spell, the transition eased by his "sacrifice" of blood, and power curled and spread through the lawn within the area, the blades quivering and twisting. Hornets – well, yellow jackets to be precise – rose from the ground all around. Liam froze as still as he could…and it took some doing: his dad had become severely allergic to wasps and bees after he was attacked by a hive in his younger years and Liam had no intention of following those footsteps.

The kid, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. He swatted one away and almost as one the newborn hive turned on him. Without his armor-spell to protect him, the wasp army attacking him had nothing to contend with. He fell to the ground, writhing and slapping and crying out, and the gun bounced away from his immediate grasp. The insects stung him repeatedly, wherever they could…and Liam let them go at it until the kid stopped moving. The shaman dismissed the spell, and watched as the yellow jackets turned to blades of grass that fluttered in the breeze. He spared a brief moment to stare forlornly at the bare patch of soil he'd left behind. It wouldn't take much effort to coax in new growth, but the grass-spirits wouldn't be pleased.

Liam took the kid's pulse before dashing into the house to call for an ambulance and police. They responded in a respectable amount of time, and the shaman made sure to warn them that the kid was stronger than he looked. One of the paramedics bandaged Liam's shoulder while the other two dealt with the kid. Evidently he'd begun having an allergic reaction to such a large amount of wasp venom – _gee, what a surprise!_ – and had to be taken to the hospital.

The shaman told the police an abbreviated version of what happened – suggesting that the kid had accidentally upset a previously unknown nest of hornets – and handed them a copy of the surveillance footage.

After they left, Liam stared at his desk and the accompanying bullet holes. It definitely had to go…

_Maybe I'll get a nice bullet-proof one next time,_ he thought, calling the next client and asking if they could postpone the session. Liam had already had a cancellation for an eleven-am appointment the next day, so he asked if that was acceptable to her and she agreed, but then she had to go and ask why.

"There was an attempted robbery," Liam explained, staring at the shattered remnants of the door. The windows beside them were fractured as well. "I'm a little shaken up from it, and the clinic's a mess."

"Oh, well I'm happy to hear that you're okay," Amy said, her voice somewhat distant in the receiver. Liam checked the wire and sagged into his chair: he'd need a new telephone cord as well…one of the bullets had nicked it by chance. _Fuck!_ "If you need more time, I can reschedule for another time too."

"No, it's fine," Liam smiled faintly, the expression changing the tone of his voice. "I just need to rest up today, and then I'll be right and fine for tomorrow. Besides, I know how much your back can hurt during a pregnancy, and I don't enjoy watching people suffer."

"You've a good heart, Mr. Faren," Amy giggled, and they said goodbye.

"Perhaps," Liam murmured after a long minute of staring at the wreck. Cleanup was going to be a bitch. His breath eased out in a long, drawn out sigh. "Well, no time like the present."

With the clinic's front door boarded up securely Liam reseeded the lawn, and decided he'd come out tonight and induce some growth in the plants…it'd be a vulgar effort, much as changing the previous patch of grass into yellow jacket hornets had been. Still, so long as he was careful the odds of causing a Paradox would be somewhat less than his desperate casting earlier.

He'd been lucky.

Once Liam had everything mundane ready for him to take off for the afternoon and pick up a new desk, a door, and had set up an appointment with a window-replacement company Liam nipped down to his basement Hallow to patch himself up, reaffirm his spell of Shielding and change into street clothes. While comfortable, the teal-colored uniform was a bit of an eyesore, especially with the stains of grass, dirt and blood.

With a disdainful sniff Liam tossed it in the garbage, scribbled a quick note for Nicolas, and locked up tight before hopping in his pickup to grab the replacements.

Almost a grand later Liam pulled into a little coffee shop for an artery-clogging snack and an insulin-spiking beverage. The place was pretty empty at this time of the day with just one miserable-looking man in the far corner and a petite barista behind the counter.

After placing, receiving and paying for his order Liam parked his ass in a booth by the window and happened to turn his gaze across the street. He spotted a sign above one of those stores that maintains an outdated appearance no matter what the era.

It was a gaudy piece of kit, but what drew his attention was the sun-yellow antique key. Liam didn't even need to read the fading black letters beneath it to know it was the place Fjord had mentioned.

"Oh, fuck me," Liam muttered, covering his face with his hands.

"Love to, but I know you and public places don't mix," a familiar voice jarred him from his self-pitying pose. Nicolas plopped himself across from Liam, and Korse curled up beneath the table with considerable effort, given his size. The barista didn't even bat an eye at Liam's familiar's presence – unless Korse did something especially obnoxious she wouldn't even see him, though she might wonder where the dog hair came from.

A useful side effect of the spiritual nature of a familiar.

"Hello, m'dear," Liam mustered a wan grin before pointedly eyeballing the truck parked just outside. "I suppose you're wondering about that."

"I did wonder about it. Renovating?"

"Of necessity. I was shot and thrown through the door." Liam pursed his lips as he recalled something. "Forgot…I've gotta pick up carpenter's wax, too…the little prick left a bullet hole in the wall behind the desk…which he also damaged." It was a few moments later when Liam realized his lover wasn't saying anything. He looked at Nicolas and asked, "What?"

"You're acting like nothing's happened." Disbelief painted his features.

"Well, in all fairness he stirred up a nest of hornets and was nearly stung to death." Liam met Nicolas' gaze steadily, but kept his voice conversational.

He frowned. "I thought you made sure there weren't any nearby."

"There weren't until I needed one. They're gone now; grass on the wind." Liam shrugged and lowered his voice considerably. "I told you when we met that I've got some tricks up my sleeve. Mind you, I was a proud little bastard back then. I didn't even know half of what I do now." _And there's still so much to learn._

"And I was a sneaky asshole," Nicolas smiled sardonically. They shared a grin, both aware that he still was. "So what were you all upset about when you suggested somebody big and hairy nail you six ways from Sunday?"

Liam snorted and started coughing, having been sipping his Coke. When he recovered enough Liam wheezed: "I didn't go into that much detail." Another breath, and as his autonomous reflexes petered off Liam relaxed and downed half the remaining drink. "I got approached by one of the 'Wise,' just before the attack…and no I don't think it's related." Liam shook his head at Nicolas' pointed look. "I think the kid was a Banisher, what the 'Wise' call Timori – the Fearful. He called me a demon, and didn't use any, ah…" Liam glanced around furtively. "He didn't use any of his advantages beyond simple strength and defense. He could have turned the wasps against me, but he didn't." Shaking his head, Liam quickly relayed the salient points of the fight with Nicolas, then dismissed the brat from his mind. "He's not the important part. Power? Yes. Skill? No. Fjord – the…the 'Wise' Guy – asked me to find him something at the antique store over there, the Golden Key." Liam motioned toward the store. "After emptying my wallet I decided to have a snack here, and lo and behold the store I'm supposed to go to is just across the street. That smacks of someone fucking with probability."

"Or at least having allies powerful enough to influence you." Nicolas pointed out.

"I like to think I'm harder to push than Mary-Joe Blondie there," Liam glanced pointedly at the barista, who was serving the miserable guy another coffee. Under his lover's stern gaze Liam eventually admitted, "Still, that doesn't mean it's impossible." They both knew it wasn't quite the truth: Liam had almost no defensive capability against mental intrusion.

"So what were you offered to bring this object to this Fjord person?"

"Knowledge," Liam answered, sipping. "To the Wise Guys, knowledge is power, and I'm afraid I'm weak as a mewling kitten in comparison."

"And how do you know he'll keep to his side of the bargain?"

"He swore an oath." Nicolas gave Liam a somewhat incredulous look, and the shaman spread his hands helplessly. "Don't ask me exactly how it works…I just know that when one of the 'Wise' makes a promise, it's in their best interest to keep it – even casual promises. I missed the expanded lecture at Mage-U," Liam added wryly.

"Ah." Nicolas scratched at his stubble for a minute, staring out the window at the Golden Key. "It's a hotspot for spirits. You can see across the Gauntlet, right?"

"Sometimes." Liam narrowed his eyes, activating a different form of magesight. This was based on the Arcanum that dealt with spirits and related subjects. He leveled his gaze at the antiquities store, though what his attention focused on was less the building and more the, well…the density of the barrier between this world and the Shadow, the spiritual reflection. It took Liam a couple minutes to complete the visual analysis, but he could already tell that it'd be nearly impossible to look across the Gauntlet even had he a solid grasp of the theory. It was an artificial reinforcement – Liam could see the effect's Pattern and the magical fingerprint of whomever had done so – and it had been made much stronger than Liam had a hope of piercing. "Gauntlet's a fucking fortress right now. The owner must be really paranoid regarding spirits."

"Could be. Do you want me to go with you?"

"Yes, thanks," Liam smiled gratefully. "I don't trust the Wise Guys, and I don't normally go out looking to meet them."

"As you've said, you need to learn. It's fortunate that you have their drive, but you haven't abandoned your humanity." Something in his words made Liam wonder if he'd had experience with mages who had.

"Well, daylight's burning," he got out of his seat and nodded at the barista with a smile both thankful and appreciative.

"Y'all come back soon, y'hear?" She waved energetically, her voice accented heavily Texan. Liam suppressed a shudder. _Why-oh-why did I have to move to the States?_

_Better pay,_ his betraying conscience whispered back.

The shaman chose not to respond, if for no better reason than to maintain a pretense of sanity.

Korse, Nicolas and Liam crossed the street after a big white moving van trundled past. Stepping into the store was like stepping into the Victorian era. The typical sounds of the city were muffled almost immediately, leaving only the sounds of an ancient phonograph making its way through some medieval musical number.

On the bright side, the air smelled significantly fresher inside than it did out.

"Seems like someone invested in an atmospheric recycling unit," Liam murmured to Nicolas, and he smiled faintly.

"What're you looking for?"

"A thin rod, glossy black. Might also serve as a battery for Essence."

"The proper term is 'medicine bag,'" a young woman corrected as she came toward us, appearing as though from nowhere. She was a very diminutive woman, and certainly dressed the part of a minor noblewoman from the Victorian era. Her dirty blonde hair had copper highlights and was pulled back in a loose tail, and her bangs sprouted out to either side of the midline of her forehead to highlight shockingly blue eyes. Her dress possessed two types of patterns, both in slight variations of dark green. The bodice – whose collar precisely followed her collarbone and revealed not a hint of cleavage – was covered in repeating geometric shapes discernable by their variations in shade as compared to the surrounding fabric. A closer look revealed even finer patterns, and Liam idly wondered if an electron microscope would find those patterns in the microscopic structure of the fabric as well. The same was true of her wrist-length sleeves, which were only barely loose enough to permit the entry and egress of her slender hands.

Her skirt – which terminated just above her ankles and revealed black boots with thick, half-inch heels – favored a more floral design, again using dark shades of green whose extremes were separated by no more than a few gradients.

From a narrow belt more decorative than utilitarian a pendulum was looped about: a silvery chain terminating in a stone possessed of a hue of blue somewhere in the middle of the range for that particular color and streaked with white, reminiscent of clouds. Its other end was tucked behind the belt, so Liam couldn't completely identify it without actually handling it.

"May I help you?" She asked, standing just beyond arm's reach.

"I'm just looking around at the moment," Liam smiled politely, trying to ignore the fact that she'd probably overheard what the two men were looking for. "But thank you for the offer."

She smiled beatifically. "If you do not mind, I shall accompany you. It has been a rather slow day thus far." She then gestured grandly all about the store. "I can tell you the history of any object you might find of interest…that is _if_, of course, you are interested in what an object represents as well as its appearance."

"Thank you," Liam nodded in acknowledgement, looking about. This place was chock full of resonance, and it seemed every object had a story to tell…spiritually speaking, that is. The type of magesight he'd chosen was somewhat specialized in what it identified, so anything that had a more spiritual resonance was kind of jumping out at him. _'It might have a bit of Spirit resonance,' he says. At least I know what it looks like…_ "Actually, now that I think about it, I am looking for a particular piece…it's a rod, glossy black and perhaps an inch thick. Do you have anything like that here?"

The shopkeeper was silent for so long Liam thought she hadn't heard, and was about to repeat the question when she spoke up.

"It is one of our more…unique…items. You are with the Consilium?" Liam shook his head.

"I'm referred to in polite conversation as 'the apostate.' Depending on the perspective, the term is apt. I find the Wise Guys' organization to be lacking, and I therefore have no faith in it."

"You are Liam, correct? Liam Faren?" The tone wasn't accusatory…simply questioning.

"That's right."

"Your opinion of the Consilium is well-known." Liam raised his eyebrows at this. _Considering my minimal contact with Chicago's supernatural scene, why am I such a hot topic? Or is it just intended to throw me off balance? Success._ "I suppose you were approached by Fjord. He's a dangerous man, but no more so than you or I. Less, perhaps. He Awoke not long ago, and is new to his power. Come. Let me show you what it is he seeks."

"That was easy," Nicolas commented quietly. Liam shot his lover a furtive grin before switching to the Prime-based magesight, whereupon he stared at the young woman's back…or more accurately, her aura. Had he any skill within the Arcanum of Mind he might have been able to do more than glimpse the odd, meaningless color or shape here or there, but that's not what he was looking for. Liam sought out the myriad of sparkles that would have told him she was Awake, or at least the odd spark here and there that would have indicated that she was a Sleepwalker.

Liam found neither…and that, coupled with his inability to see her nimbus inferred that it was intentionally hidden.

Perhaps it was to obscure herself from the senses of those who might wish a mage harm. There was certainly no shortage of that kind of individual amongst the more active.

The two men followed the young lady – she seemed to be in her early twenties – toward the back of the shop, past exquisitely designed antique furniture of which none had been in common usage for at least a hundred years…if not longer. The woman stopped by a display case, and one look told Liam not to touch its surface.

It was shaped like a china cabinet, but the little panes of glass were held in place by wrought iron filigree. From moment to moment the metal seemed to shift and change its appearance, at first leafed vines, then crackling flames and then curling waves. Its teak components had been stained so dark a red it was nearly black, and the construction was such that the hinges were hidden amongst the filigree. Within were three shelves, but only the middle one was occupied.

Magically, the whole thing radiated protective spells and wards and well…simply put, there were more defensive and entrapment spells than Liam could define. He'd need weeks to study its every intricacy.

The only object contained within was the rod Fjord had wanted Liam to procure. It was glossy black, and about a foot long, but it tapered from one inch at what the shaman thought of as the butt – or bottom – to a half inch at the tip, where it was a little jagged…almost as if it was a piece of something larger.

"As you can see, it is not an object we are willing to part with…particularly not to the likes of Fjord." The woman gestured momentarily at the rod before clasping her hands at her waist. "We have not been able to analyze it sufficiently, and due to what we _have_ learned we certainly refuse to allow any of the Orders to get their hands on it."

"Is it a weapon?" Liam asked, glancing at the shopkeeper. "Or a tool?"

"In a manner, both." She looked at the taller man. "You may call me Kitten, by the way. We have determined that it is a path to the Abyss. Beyond one unfortunate, accidental activation we have not actually used it, but our hypothesis is that it will propel the user – or whoever they use it on – physically into the Abyss."

"Isn't that impossible to do, though?" Liam looked hopefully to Kitten. "I thought we couldn't do that."

"Perhaps an Archmaster could manage it on his or her own." Kitten pursed her lips. "I am afraid I have not given the subject much thought. Our best guess is that this object acts like a vacuum into the Abyss, similar to a portal given physical substance."

"A path to the Abyss…" Liam frowned. "Is Fjord Scelesti?" Kitten looked thoughtful.

"Not that I've heard of." She shook her head. "It's not as though he'd advertise that, however. He _has_ been more aggressive in his search for power. It may be that he doesn't realize what this represents." Kitten hesitated before continuing with, "He may in fact be starting to walk that path. It is always possible that the desire for power will corrupt."

As she spoke, Liam felt the stirrings of his sense of duty and responsibility waking up.

_Fuck._

There were two choices with this possible problem that might have deeper consequences if ignored. Either he could ignore the problem and go back home – not an option since giving someone a direct path to the Abyss stood against what little he agreed with the Orders about – or he could look for Fjord and/or evidence of his interest in the ways of the Scelesti. If Liam chose the former, he would have to accept the possibility that innocent people could die as a direct result of his negligence…to say nothing of his distaste for the manner in which they would die. He wasn't against natural selection or the humane culling of a species, but the keyword in that is "humane." Scelesti torture and torment and terrorize others without regard for mercy.

If he chose the latter option, Liam would be breaking human law for the mere possibility of identifying and handling magical terrorism.

_These are the days that make life so much more complicated._ Liam closed his eyes and sighed, making his decision. _Fine. I'll do it, but as carefully as possible. I'll need David's help on this as well…we can go tomorrow night._

_After I've finished repairs._ "Kitten, you wouldn't happen to know where Fjord lairs, would you?"

"No, though I know someone who might be able to find him. Why are you looking?"

"If he's Scelesti then he has to be brought to the Consilium. I might not like them very much, but theirs is the only organization I could bring him to. Sleepers have no way to deal with him."

"Fair enough. And what is your name?"

Liam paused for a moment to consider, recalling that she knew him by his real name. Finally he said, "Thorn. It will serve in much the same capacity as 'Kitten' does."

"Indeed." The young woman went to the sales counter and pulled out a sticky-note pad and a pen, then scribbled down an address. She gave the note to Liam and as he read it he noted with dry amusement that her handwriting was almost as bad as his. "Go to that address, and present your problem. She would not speak with you if you were an Order mage."

"And how do you know I'm not secretly associated with the Orders?" Liam asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Kitten smiled enigmatically as she answered, "Because you are in the presence of a werewolf. I can see that easily by the vivid nature of his aura, and it is romantic that whenever you look at one another luminous swirls of bright blue love race through both your auras."

Without reacting to the latter part of her statement, Nicolas asked, "How does that tell you he's not part of the Pentacle?"

"Allow me to break it down by Order and their general – if stereotypical – perspectives." Kitten cleared her throat. "The Adamantine Arrow views you as little better than wild animals, and best left alone. The Mysterium would rather dissect you than engage in intelligent discourse, and the Silver Ladder finds you without use to their grand plans for humanity, although you may be a possible hindrance. The Guardians of the Veil see your work in protecting humanity from the Shadow as commendable, but they would much rather leave you to patrol your own. The Free Council is perhaps the most liberal of the Orders, but they are still widely constrained by the mentality of the Diamond Orders from which some of their members originate." The petite woman spread her hands. "Put bluntly, none of them would be caught dead in a romantic relationship with a non-mortal or -mage."

"Ah," Nicolas said, his cheeks rouging a bit. Kitten noticed and raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"I think it is sweet," Kitten spoke quickly, her tone reassuring. "No matter. I will contact my associate and let her know you are coming. You are planning to go over immediately?"

"The sooner this is over with, the better." Liam replied. Kitten nodded, they said goodbye, and the two men left.

"So you're really going to break into someone's home?" Nicolas asked in a quiet voice as the door to the store shut behind them. The sounds of the city had immediately started up again as soon as they crossed the threshold, evidence towards a sound-dampening effect in place. "You realize that's illegal, right?"

"I'm well aware of that." Liam muttered darkly as they got into his truck. Korse leapt into the cab after Nicolas and sat on the seat between them. "I also know that if I don't check into this, it'll haunt me. And it's my responsibility."

"You could just hand it off to one of the Orders," Nicolas pointed out as Liam eased the truck onto the road and picked up to a reasonable pace, considering the load in the bed.

Liam shook his head. "I'm an apostate, Nick. One of the 'faithless.' I've turned down two offers and 'threatened' the latter bearers." At the intersection Liam made a right and continued on to the highway. The address was in one of the suburbs outside of the city, and the fastest route was the highway. "The Guardians might be willing to investigate, as might the Arrows. They're police and militants, respectively. Fjord may have mentioned being part of the Free Council; I can't remember…I do know that he couldn't go see Kitten directly, because she refuses Order mages. That means he's part of the Pentacle."

Nicolas didn't reply to that, so they traveled in relative silence for the half hour it took to navigate to the highway, putter along it and then get off at the appropriate exit. Another few minutes of driving brought them to a pretty little white, one-storey house with a white picket fence and perfectly manicured lawn. The flower garden was set with perfect grey stones exactly alike, and the flowers themselves were virtually Platonic ideals of their species.

_Suspicious._

"It looks like a dollhouse," Nicolas commented, letting Korse out after Liam parked the truck. "You sure this is the right house?" He shut and locked his door.

"42 Balsam, just like Kitten said." Liam shrugged. "If she gave us the wrong address, we'll just find another way to locate Fjord. Come on."

The shaman walked up the perfect white-gravel path and looked for a doorbell.

There was none.

"That's strange," Liam frowned, running his fingers up and down either side of the doorframe, where a doorbell would ordinarily be.

"What is?" Nicolas asked, stepping up beside his lover.

"No ringer. Guess we knock." Liam turned his attention to the door and raised his hand to rap a quick tattoo against it, but his eyes were drawn to the brass knocker in the middle of the door before his hand connected, and he just had to try it out.

It brought to mind the movie "Scary Movie 2" when he pulled back the brass testicles and struck them against the door loudly. Liam was half-expecting to hear male screams off in the distance crying out in pain, but there was nothing like that…just some soft footfalls inside the house.

When the door opened Liam found himself staring at a frail, older woman dressed in powder blue pants and a pale pink shirt with a white shawl whose edges were decorated in blue, red and green floral script.

"You're Thorn," the woman stated, staring at the shaman with clear, blue eyes that held a noble elegance speaking to a very proper upbringing. Her thick hair had gone completely white, and while quite curly none of the hairs stuck out of place. She took a step back to let them pass by, but gave Korse a quick glance before permitting him inside. "I've been expecting you since Kitten called. How was the traffic?"

"It was typical for this time of day," Liam answered politely. "Rush-home traffic. I don't mean to be rude, but, ah…how shall I call you?"

"You don't," the woman smiled enigmatically, in much the same manner as Kitten possessed. She led the way down a rather interestingly decorated front hall. Everything was ivy, but here and there Liam spied shapes too common to be anything but the reproductive organs of men and women, and on three different occasions he thought he saw couples rutting in the patterns of the leaves. "I doubt we'll be meeting again, and I mean that as politely as possible. I don't think you'll require my aid after today, so you probably won't be coming to my home again." The old woman sat at on a recliner and told her guests to be seated on the couch across from her. She took up a white porcelain cup of tea they'd apparently interrupted her enjoyment of. "You've come about Fjord."

"So Kitten told you, and you know why we're here," Nicolas commented, maintaining a conservative distance from Liam of a foot. Ordinarily he'd be pressed right up against Liam's side where they could both take reassurance from the other's presence. Right now Liam wanted to be as far from this woman as possible. Her nimbus wasn't immediately obvious until he looked at her feet and saw what seemed at first to be roiling shadows, nearly obscuring her legs below mid-calf. Liam quickly realized they were coils of very dark snakes, like black mambas. The shaman had a thing about snakes: he _really_ didn't like them. He wasn't partial to insects either, but he could force bugs to go away. Snakes? Not so much.

"Can you tell us where he is?" Nicolas continued.

"No." The term was abrupt, and the old woman sipped tea while the tension failed to build. "I do not know where he lives. I could find out for you, but he is Mastigos and more paranoid than most. His wards are impressive for one Awake less than a year."

The two men waited while the old woman drank her tea, until it became obvious that she wasn't going to speak again.

"So…what sort of assistance can you provide?" Liam asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"With Fjord? Very little, I'm afraid. Kitten was overestimating the degree to which I am permitted to interfere. Why are you so interested in finding him, anyway? You've only this barely defined fear of his being Scelesti, and you've decided to act so quickly. You tell yourself and your werewolf that you are doing this because you feel it to be your responsibility, but the Orders are more experienced in this than you are. You reason away your decision not to go to them as due to your unaligned status; that since you've mistreated two of the five all will decline audience."

"And that's a poor assumption?" Liam bristled.

"My goodness, 'poor'?" The old bag laughed so hard she started coughing. When she recovered she leaned back in her chair and bestowed upon the shaman a bemused, patronizing smile. "Rare are the occasions I get such amusement. I would thank you, but it is truly a sad time when the younger generation thinks so poorly of their government."

"I've yet to see any reason not to," Liam answered, brazenly repositioning himself on the couch so that he could put his arm around Nicolas' shoulders. He tensed at Liam's breach of social etiquette.

"Ignorance is never something to be proud of," the old woman leaned forward earnestly. "What better reason could there be for learning of the Orders than that you might manipulate them? Twist them and work them until they become as you desire, not unlike the flesh you manipulate for your livelihood." She held up a hand and made a fist with it. "The Orders are divided by their mutual mistrust. The Free Council is mistrusted for its youth, the Guardians for their role in policing the Awakened community. The Arrow detests the Guardians for their underhanded tactics and the Ladder attempts to assume leadership 'because someone must.'"

"And the Mysterium?"

"They horde knowledge as a mockingbird hordes shiny baubles." Liam got the impression she would have loved to spit in derision, but didn't want to dirty her carpet.

A brief pause came and went as she refilled her teacup and Liam spoke carefully.

"Are you saying that you can help me realize the skill to manipulate something so hopelessly convoluted as the Consilium and associated Orders?"

"Oh, heavens no! You are far too thick-headed for me to teach. Adding to that is the fact you are Thyrsus, so I have no doubt that I have neither the patience nor the remaining years required to instruct you in such methods."

"We're getting off track here." Liam shook his head and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "You've given me no help that would lead to identifying whether or not Fjord is Scelesti."

"Haven't I?" The old woman leaned back and steepled her fingers. "Has it occurred to you to wonder why you are so quick to dismiss the Consilium? You are independent as a matter of course, yes, but isn't jumping into this search for Fjord abnormally xenophobic?"

"What does she mean?" Nicolas looked at Liam, but the shaman ignored his look as he stared at his free hand.

"Do you have a mirror?" Liam asked the old woman, and she nodded toward the wall behind the couch. The shaman stood and turned, finding himself face-to-face with a long mirror, its borders detailed ivy-work with the same conspicuous sexual theme as throughout the rest of the house.

Liam's previous magesight had expired, but that was all to the good, as what he needed to do required the purer version. Casting the spell may have been sufficient, but Liam chanted a few words of High Speech in order to gain just a bit of an edge.

The shaman peered at his reflection, allowing his gaze to take in the myriad of sparkles floating about his aura that marked him as a mage. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of color, but for the most part it was as though they floated in a body of water extending a foot or two away from his body. This passed as he continued to scrutinize himself, fading as the golden energy of his mana reserves took its turn, turning his reflection into a silhouette of the same color.

As with the sparkles this faded, returning his visage to its normal state save for the black net of extremely fine magical fibers encasing his aura. Feelers trailed into his flesh at various points, but even as Liam turned his head from side to side, the moderately thicker one leading into the center of his forehead stretched and contracted as necessary.

"I see it," Liam sighed, uncertain who he could approach that might dismantle it for him: he lacked the requisite comprehension of the Arcanum of Mind for such work. Even now the caster's magical fingerprint came into view, and Liam committed it to memory in case he came across said caster.

The only mages he'd come in contact with today were Kitten, Fjord and David.

"And what do you intend to do about it?"

"Do about what?" Nicolas asked. A grim smile spread across Liam's face as he answered.

"Someone placed a compulsion on me. Very intricate work. It'll unravel in due course, but I want it gone ASAP. I don't even know who could eliminate it…"

"Why can't you?" Nicolas asked. "Didn't you get rid of that Banisher-person's magic armor?"

"The only reason I could do that is because I possess knowledge of the same Arcanum he used to create the armor." Liam tilted his head to one side as he examined the threads that made up the spell. "This has elements of Fate, but is primarily Mind. Who do I know that possesses this much skill?"

"What does it do?" The old woman's question was asked in the tone of someone who already knew the answer.

"It amplifies obsession." Liam ground his teeth. "It pushes me to decide against any assistance the Pentacle might provide."

"The Pentacle…or the Ministries." Liam whipped about, hands raised in readiness to defend himself. The old woman sat, calmly sipping her tea. She set the cup down and met Liam's eyes steadily. "You are unaligned, so the Seers may choose to court you, and in so doing may be amenable to a show of good faith by dispelling that nasty compulsion."

"How can you even suggest such a thing?" Liam demanded, in turns outraged and horrified.

"What?" She replied dryly. "How can I suggest that you use your enemy's powers to your advantage? Pentacle or Seer, they are all enemies in one form or another. Allying with one opens you to danger from the other. It is the nature of the beast."

"Come," Liam ordered Nicolas in a flat voice. "We're leaving. Kitten was wrong," this last was directed at the old woman. "You are of no use to me in the least."

"Hold!" The woman stood up as she spoke, the word ringing about the living room and holding them in place. Liam's body was no longer under his control, no matter how he tried to struggle he was locked inside his body, unable even to tense a muscle. Korse whined and Nicolas growled, but they were apparently as powerless as Liam…more, because of the alien magic. She shuffled past Liam and into her kitchen.

He couldn't even turn his eyes to watch her go, and had to settle for listening.

Her aged hands opened a drawer, rummaging inside while moving objects that sounded like a miscellaneous collection that had been thrown together. A junk drawer.

She muttered to herself as she searched, the words beyond Liam's ability to hear yet something behind them raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

Within a few minutes he heard her close the drawer and shuffle back over, coming into Liam's rigid field of view. She held a pair of scissors the like Liam had never seen before. They looked to have been made of bleached bone stained with blood, and in fact seemed to be miniature shears.

"I shall do you a favor, young Thorn." She poked Liam in the chest with the scissors for emphasis. "It is not often I am motivated enough to interfere. You must do something for me, however. Free your mind, and open it to the possibilities. You will make the correct choices when you are appropriately receptive."

She reached up with the shears and closed them on the fiber of magic Liam had seen protruding from his forehead. Before she snipped, she smiled at Liam, and for a moment he saw Kitten's face, aged eighty years. "This is really going to hurt."

The shears closed and white-hot pain exploded behind Liam's eyes, blanking from his awareness all that was outside the coruscating core of primal agony that he couldn't even scream for. That miserable old bat kept him frozen all through it, unable to so much as whimper.

Liam couldn't tell how long she kept him locked in that state of perpetual pain, but one moment it was all that existed for him and the next it had vanished, and he found he'd at some point collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath.

"Your lover should really calm down. I've told him a number of times that you're fine and simply needed to ride the pain out." Liam turned his head by slow increments until he could see the old woman. _Heh, she looks like Betty White._ "It's unfortunate that Artifact is my only method of severing spells. The pain is the price it exacts, and since I'd rather not have my neighbors wondering at the shrieking of a strapping young lad as yourself over the past hour I chose to keep you in stasis. I must say, that was a remarkably complex spell. If I may offer my opinion? It couldn't have been Fjord…nobody can attain that degree of skill in only a few short months." Something she'd said earlier finally penetrated the fog of pain-free bliss, and Liam cocked his head at a very unpleasant angle to see Nicolas in full-out warform.

As he understood it, werewolves have five different shapes, and in the deepest recesses of Liam's mind he'd numbered them, with one being the total human form and five being the full wolf.

Right now Nicolas occupied form number three, subtitled "Monster". Even after the transformation he remained in the same position.

He stood a full nine feet tall – yet still the ceiling rose another three above his head – sported claws capable of tearing rents in steel and concrete and his luminous golden eyes blazed with insane rage. He literally vibrated as he struggled against the spell holding him, his eyes set fully on the old woman.

"I wouldn't worry too much about him right now." She walked into the kitchen, raising her voice so Liam could hear her, though it became thin and reedy with the additional volume. "He'll burn out before long, and when he reverts he'll be too tired to transform." She returned and offered a little teacup on a saucer for Liam. "Tea?"

The shaman couldn't help it: he started laughing. Manic giggles that hurt my belly and threatened to turn to tears if he didn't stop them quickly.

A furry snout snuffled his ear and neck, the cold nose against his flesh shocking Liam out of his laughter. Through their link Korse projected soothing calm while Liam turned and buried his face deep into the dog's ruff.

Liam could count on one hand the number of words his familiar had said to him, but the breadth of emotion he could feel seemed to far outdistance what most standard spirits could feel. However, right now Liam didn't particularly care.

His solid presence helped Liam center himself. Once back in control he was able to gather his strength and stand, the memory of the severing fading rapidly as Korse pressed against Liam's legs.

"That is a most remarkable familiar," the woman commented, still offering tea. Liam took a breath, then took the cup and shot a quick, guilty glance at Nicolas before sitting down to sip politely. "Don't worry about him. The spell-net will collapse when he exhausts himself."

Liam frowned at the cup, tasting it again. Black Earl Grey, sugared to taste. Exactly how he liked it.

"And please don't concern yourself with the flavor. The cup is enchanted to provide precisely what the drinker wants. It even maintains the temperature within while keeping the outer surface cool to the touch." She sipped delicately. "A most remarkable enchantment indeed. Now, are you ready to hear my request?"

After a moment of frowning into his cup, Liam nodded without looking up.

"Kitten is my granddaughter. You will enter into a cabal with her. I care not who else joins, but she is isolating herself, and it is not appropriate. Already there are whispers at Consilium that she consorts with demons from the Pit. False, of course, but she needs to socialize. Just as you do." Sip. "My apologies for suggesting the Ministries earlier, but I needed to be certain you were the correct fit for Kitten."

"I had assumed you to be against the Pentacle, if for no other reason than that I was told Kitten is staunchly opposed to them."

"By whom? Fjord, who asked you to visit the Golden Key? No…well, you're half right. Kitten doesn't like the Orders, but she likes the Ministries less. The Pentacle isn't perfect, but it's the lesser evil, and it is powerful. I'm concerned for her. She will approach you on Saturday, a little after noon."

Liam frowned harder, eyes darting around the floor as though trying to find a way to escape. Finally, he settled his gaze on her hands. _Maybe if I stare hard enough I can decipher her liver spots and find a way out._

"I'm not particularly interested in joining or forming a cabal." It took a moment before Liam realized he'd actually managed to say those words. _Why am I so intimidated by an old woman?_

_Because in the blink of an eye she caught you up in a spell you couldn't even react to, let alone break._

"That's unfortunate, because my request is in fact a consolidation of two commands from the Hierarch." The blood drained from Liam's face. "There are rumors about you, too. Your friend – Garrote – he's been trying his damnedest to head off such…and I see he hasn't told you."

"H-he's been pushing me to involve myself more lately. Why is Caleb involved now?" This was growing too much too fast. Liam's pulse had picked up and his had breath quickened at the mention of the Hierarch.

"Because he chooses to be, I imagine. Perhaps in sharing your Path he feels a certain kinship. Or perhaps he's trying to keep Chicago's mages from organizing a witch hunt. There have been similar problems of late. Your aggressive reaction toward the Silver Ladder – and to a lesser extent the Mysterium – have not been taken well. Some are suggesting you are turning Timori." Liam bit his lip, looking back at how he'd dealt with the two Orders to approach. _Perhaps I was a little…antagonistic. But weren't they listening to what I'd said?_ "I can sense your love for magic in your lack of hesitation in using your power, so I tend disagree with that notion." Sip. "There will be no more offers. If you wish to join an Order – by no means a necessity, though it will help your case – you will have to approach them, and work all the harder to prove yourself."

Liam drained his cup and set it aside. Taking a deep breath he tried to order his thoughts. He spoke, the word a croak: "Recommendations?"

"Accept Kitten's offer to form a cabal with you. At least attend the monthly Consilium gathering. If you do not, Caleb will ruin you." Liam jerked back as though she'd slapped him, eyes wide and face cold. She met his incredulous gaze with a neutral expression. "That's correct. Caleb – for all that he's an Arrow – can be remarkably Guardian in how he handles what he views as problems. He can and will curse you and yours. How will your business turn out when your clients decide you acted improperly? Your reputation will be ruined, no matter what the reality is. If you do not engage soon, he will. Nicolas will not be exempt. Caleb has clout amongst several of the packs in this city, and could quickly make living here impossible for a solitary wolf. Your friend David would have to juggle your friendship with increasingly stringent demands in the Mysterium, eventually resulting in being locked out of everything." Liam opened his mouth but she ran roughshod over him. "Would you ask why he's picking on you? Does the Hierarch need a reason?"

"All I wanted was to be left alone." Liam sat stiffly, gripping his hands with white-knuckled anger. "To be permitted to do as I wish, so long as I harm none and don't violate the Lex. Is that a crime? To not want to be involved with your disputes and your petty politics? Look at what you're doing now!" The shaman gestured sharply and vaguely between them. "You're using threats because I refused to comply."

"Don't like it, do you?" She stood up with Liam. "You find it despicable? Then why don't you do something about it?!" The old bag had quite the pair of lungs on her.

"Because that can only be done from inside!" Liam roared back at her.

He froze as he processed what he'd just said, and she smiled sweetly.

"Precisely. Close your mouth, dear. You're not a particularly effective flytrap."

Liam's lips pressed together automatically, and he darted his gaze around, trying to understand what had just happened.

"I must say, I haven't had that much fun in years. More tea?" Liam shook his head, trying to get his voice working again. She poured herself another cup, and pulled an Arrowroot cookie from somewhere. "Oh, don't worry about it. I mean, Caleb will destroy you if you don't become an active part of the Consilium, so that's still a valid concern, but shouting at me? You merely gave as good as you got." All at once the strength went out from Liam's legs and he collapsed onto her couch. "Please try not doing that again. It's rather old furniture."

It still smelled new.

"So what the fuck just happened?" Liam let go his filter against cussing slip completely.

"You got angry, and in the purity of your anger managed to let slip something true. You detest the system. The system can only be changed from the inside. You have two choices: join, or flee."

"Flight is not really a feasible option," Liam mused. "Fine. I'll involve myself. Any idea why Caleb's being such a fucktard about this?"

"That's a new one. Fucktard." The old woman spoke the word slowly, as though savoring a new wine. "Interesting imagery." There is nothing more disturbing on Earth than hearing an otherwise prim old woman swearing. "To answer your question, I'm not entirely sure. Caleb keeps his own council, save when he needs an opinion on what the future may hold. Do you know why there are so few unaligned mages in Chicago?"

"Don't tell me: Caleb."

"Correct. Normally he's a bit more…how shall I put this? Diplomatic. Or at least not as callous."

Liam pursed his lips, hesitant to give voice to what she seemed to be insinuating.

"What if he's running out of time, and that's why he's changed tactics? I've only been here a year and a bit, so I don't know what he's normally like. I just know he's a dick."

"Most Thyrsus are." Sip. Liam met her eyes, which were crinkled in either amusement or age as she watched his reaction.

Go figure: female Liam, plus a hundred years.

Wherever else the conversation might have gone, it was stymied by the sickening cracks and squishing sounds Nicolas gave off as he returned to human. The stasis spell faded with the warform, allowing him to stagger two steps before dropping.

Expecting the transition and reacting when it happens are two different things. As such Liam only just managed to keep him from smashing into the coffee table, but without time to brace even Nicolas's slight weight bore them both down.

"My hero," he slurred. Liam stroked his lover's hair as he passed out, senses probing in for a quick checkup. Extreme exhaustion and some minor tissue damage that vanished even as Liam watched, but otherwise good health and nothing that some rest wouldn't help. Korse nuzzled Nicolas's cheek, drawing no other response than a sleepy murmur.

"I suspect you wish to take him home now. Take my advice, if only for a bit of leeway. As it stands, you're getting ready to attempt standing against an avalanche." She stood as Liam got to his feet and picked Nicolas up, then walked them to the door with Korse following sedately afterward. At the door she sighed. "Ah, young love. I'll try and get Kitten to arrive at noon, but she'll put up a fight and will arrive promptly at three-twelve in the afternoon. Please be patient with her…she'll be rather riled up."

"Acanthus?" Liam asked, stepping onto the porch. She smiled enigmatically.

"Have a pleasant day, dear."

The door somehow closed despite Liam being inside its arc, leaving him standing on a narrow concrete porch with a dog the size of a small horse twined around his legs and an unconscious man in his arms.

_Gee, I sure hope I don't stand out too much._ The bitter thought kept Liam's mind off what he'd learned, kept him functioning. Were it not for work tomorrow, tonight would be an absolutely fantastic night for getting drunk. Hell, why should he wait for the sun to set?

At his truck Liam attempted to juggle Nicolas and keys when he felt Korse stiffen, growling so low Liam wasn't hearing it so much as feeling it. He turned to see what the dog was upset about and watched as a car slowly rolled by.

Korse did not remove his gaze from the vehicle – a gold Mercedes of some sort – the whole while it cruised past at a speed way below the local limit. Tinted windows prevented Liam from seeing within, and the late afternoon sun coupled with poor angles and a covering over the license plate prevented him from getting the numbers.

"Probably just not sure what the deal is," Liam told Korse, eyeballing the car as it turned a corner. It didn't have the same shape as a police cruiser, and a cop would've pulled over and gotten up in his face about whatever it was Liam looked to be doing. He wrestled the passenger door open – Nicolas had forgotten to lock his door again – and froze as he stared down the barrel of a handgun.

Holding it steady were two young, bony hands owned by a kid – well, around mid-teens – in a bulky black sweater and leather jacket, crouched down in front of the passenger's seat. Brilliant blue eyes gauged the shaman's reaction beneath a mass of unruly dark blond hair. Liam narrowed his eyes as the boy's nimbus faded into view: a collar biting into his neck etched with High Speech runes Liam couldn't translate, slow rivulets of phantom blood welling up from beneath.

Liam glanced to either side as he opened his mouth to start speaking, and vomited a burst of incandescent white fire upon him. The boy recoiled as anticipated and Liam dropped his lover to snag the kid's wrists and force the gun straight up until they caught on the door frame.

Nick landed on Korse – who yelped at the sudden weight – and rolled under the truck. _Sorry!_

"I have had just about enough of you Banisher brats pointing guns at me!" Liam snarled, increasing the pressure on the boy's wrists. His grip had always been strong, but Liam worked with his hands almost every day.

"Hey!" The kid tried to kick out at Liam, but the position he'd wedged himself into was far too awkward to allow it. In response the shaman tightened his grasp. He could feel the bones in the boy's forearms beginning to shift. If he squeezed any harder they'd start to fracture. "Ow, fuck! Stop! You'll break my arms!"

"Then drop the weapon."

Instead of dropping the gun he did something magical, and Liam felt a trickle of fear skitter through his mind.

He was far too angry for it to take, though, and that just made it worse.

"All I want is to be left alone, but gods forbid that should even be a possibility!" Liam slammed the bound hands against the doorframe. "Korse, up!" The big dog jumped into the truck and bared very large, very sharp teeth at the kid. "I'm seriously considering leaving this city, just based on how far to shit this day has gone, and all because of miserable cocks like yourself!" Each word was punctuated by another slam, though the gun had toppled to the ground at "city". Liam hauled his captive out bodily and when he tried to kick Liam viciously twisted the boy's arms, forcing him into an awkward position to alleviate the stress.

Sure, he was being a little…well, a lot mean. Maybe the stranger didn't deserve it.

Maybe Liam didn't care, and needed to vent.

Liam's knee connected with the kid's exposed side, sending him into a fit of coughing as the wind was driven from his lungs.

Satisfied that he'd be at least a couple minutes in recovering, Liam tossed him to the side, kicked the gun down the street – distantly noting the miracle of how it didn't go off at all during the exchange – and manhandled Nick into the truck. Korse curled up where the teen had hidden and tolerated Liam arranging Nick's legs atop the dog's back.

Keys in hand Liam shut the door and glanced at the kid.

Nowhere to be seen. The gun was gone, too.

The shaman growled as Korse had, shoring up his body with a Life-based Shielding. He wiped the blood from his upper lip, a result of overreaching his magical abilities with the magical fire, then got into his truck and pulled out with perhaps a bit more gusto than absolutely necessary. When he made a sharp right without slowing down enough, Nick slumped into the middle of the seat.

That was how they arrived back home, to find David's grey Thunderbird – a model almost as old as Liam's dad – in the drive. Well, red ordinarily. Liam gathered his friend changed the color occasionally.

Korse was patient up until the moment Liam shut the engine off, at which point he began squirming, wriggling and whining to be let out. When the shaman vacated Korse squeezed out through the driver's door, and ran for the gate to the back yard.

Liam took a step forward, intending to let him into it – clearly he had some _business_ to attend – but froze when his dog jumped against the neighbor's house, kicked off the wall and virtually flew over the fence.

His eyebrows did their best to climb into his hairline, and Liam's sole, shocked thought was "That's new." As he unbuckled Nick and heaved him over his shoulder Liam wondered if he should try and get his lover to teach him some of his tricks. Liam knew Nick had done some parkour pre-werewolf, but while he thought it cool it hadn't really occurred to ask for tutelage.

Seeing Korse fly over the fence like nothing?

_Meesa want!_

David started as Liam walked through the front door, though he waved off any questions until he had Nick ensconced in bed. Once stripped and thrown under the sheets Liam walked up stairs, poured himself a couple fingers of spiced Morgan and tossed it.

Once the initial grimace passed and he had poured another, Liam faced David. His friend took a breath to ask a question – likely "What the hell?" – but Liam interrupted and gave him the bullet points. When he'd finished Liam eyed the glass, added another finger and choked it down.

"That is a piss-poor day, I must admit." David poured himself a shot, clinked Liam's glass and joined in the downward spiral. "You're not going to like this, though. The old woman you met was the previous Hierarch of Chicago. She stepped down about ten years ago."

"Does she have a name?" Liam asked, tightening his grip on the counter as the floor decided to tilt ten degrees. "I'm getting tired of thinking of her as 'Old Bag'."

"Dude! Show some respect!"

"She's not here right now," Liam pointed out, trying to get his mouth to work properly. "And if for whatever reason she's looking in, she should know that's a clear violation of privacy and I don't accept that." Rather than take another drink Liam set the glass down, chipping the corner as he did.

Oops, too hard.

"So what's her name?"

"Hmm?" David took Liam's glass and the chip, pressed them together and worked some of his mojo. The shaman grimaced as prickles ran down his spine and landed in his stomach like a lead weight. A quick grab snagged the glass back, which he then filled with water to chug.

David's repair job was such one couldn't even tell there'd been any damage.

With his stomach's alcohol watered down and a quick Compelling of Life to prevent it from totally knocking him on his ass, the floor decided to straighten out and Liam gave David the hairy eyeball.

"Her name?"

"Oh, I don't know it. I recognize the appearance from a painting, and the personality from eavesdropping, but all anyone ever calls her is 'the previous Hierarch'."

Liam frowned. "Wouldn't that mean that Caleb's been the Hierarch for ten years, though?"

"He's older than he looks. He's Thyrsus, bud, and a Master of the Gross Arcana. He can look like whoever and whatever he wants, near as I can gather or care." He downed another shot, and Liam jealously glared at him. He wasn't exactly skin and bones, but Liam didn't have the body fat to drink like he used to. "And are you going to tell a man with that kind of power that he's not as young as he says he is? If he wants to be in his twenties, then he can be in his twenties." David set their glasses in the dishwasher and took a breath. "Want to tackle your clinic, then?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

The damage Liam's impromptu flight had caused had also torn up much of the frame, but with David's help that wasn't as big an issue as it could have been. He even boosted the strength of the materials, to help in the event of another flying massage therapist. Liam wanted to carve some runes into the underside of the frame to eventually serve as the basis for an automated dispelling system, but David persuaded him otherwise.

"You want to what?"

"I want to get some runes into the underside here-" Liam tapped the backs of the pieces of doorframe "-that will anchor an abjuration to strip magical effects from anyone walking into it." David smiled briefly at Liam's terminology. They'd both been huge fans of Dungeons and Dragons, and sometimes they fell back on its terms when Liam found himself at a loss…or becoming repetitive.

"Are you going to do that sometime within a day of carving them?"

"Probably not. Why?"

David pinched the bridge of his nose. "I keep forgetting that you don't have all the basics a real apprenticeship would have imparted, rather than this self-taught mishmash. Runes need to be used within twenty-four hours of being inscribed. Even if you started casting within a day that's good enough, but disuse renders them useless."

"So if a spell they powered lapsed they'd be useless after a day?" He nodded. "Why don't I just recast every day?"

"That'd be prohibitive, energy-wise. Even if you wanted to sit in the Hallow, you'd still have to disassemble the door each time you cast the necessary spells. Could you countenance that? More precisely, do you have the skill necessary to make a permanent magical object?"

"Not…not really." Liam shifted uncomfortably. "I could make it last a while, but-"

David interrupted. "But it'd take nearly as long to cast in the first place, to say nothing of how you'd be overreaching your capabilities. That's what happens when you try and bulldoze through spell-work. I don't recommend doing it. It's a good idea – and one I'll recommend to Percy – but it will take you a goodly chunk of time, every time." He paused for a breath and to restore the last pieces of the door frame. Liam was lucky the wood hadn't splintered into pieces too small to readily locate, though they'd had to rescue them from the trash. "Mind you, it wouldn't really hurt to explore other avenues of magical protection."

The conversation from that point kind of stalled, as Liam didn't really know what other applications he could apply.

_Interesting fact: I clam up completely when I begin thinking exactly how paltry my arcane knowledge is._

David let his friend wallow in self-pity long enough to finish fixing up the clinic before he dragged Liam downstairs to the Hallow. The peaceful and content resonance banished the shaman's sour mood completely.

As his emotions settled into the Happy Medium Land, Liam looked around.

"So why did you bring me down here?"

Without answering he went to the bookshelves in the corner and scanned the titles. It held Liam's collection of fantasy – ironic considering the reality – and science fiction novels, though the bottom shelf was dedicated to Nick's Westerns.

Fortunately his taste in media had nothing to do with why Liam loved him.

"Here we are," David exclaimed as he pulled a book out. From here it looked like a brand new copy of Aliens Ate My Homework – not Liam's much-loved and _only _copy – but when he passed it to the shaman it shimmered and transformed into a leather-bound journal. Inside, most of the pages were blank, and what writing there was could only be loosely defined as a legible.

"What is this?" Liam asked, trying to decipher the first page.

"A journal. I wonder what it looks like under Prime-sight." He waited as the shaman eyeballed first David, then the book.

He'd deliberately brought Liam down here to mitigate the energy requirements of magesight, though he knew Liam had been taught a formulaic variant: he'd actually provided that grimoire.

_Does he want magesight as well? Is he testing something?_ Liam's brows furrowed as he puzzled it over, though not for long. He finally asked "Will you consent to a spell of magesight?" David nodded, a satisfied grin appearing.

"I was wondering if you'd pass the etiquette test. Honestly, there isn't much difference for interactions between the Orders, though they all have their niceties." He waited patiently as Liam bestowed Prime Sight, targeting himself as well. Liam didn't know the formulaic variant that allowed him to affect others, and it took Liam three tries.

The second and third time Liam incorporated High Speech for better results.

David chuckled as the spell settled into place, revealing a wealth of resonance in the humble basement. "That could be used as an allegory for the difference between skill and brute power, as I mentioned earlier. Let's have a look at the book, shall we?"

Liam acquiesced and opened the book to the first page. The illegible script remained, but was now overlaid with elegant handwriting in glowing, azure lines.

"Fascinating," David remarked in a casual tone of voice. "It seems to be a journal of some sort. I wonder what else the author might have inscribed on later pages." He flipped through until he came to the first otherwise blank page. It still had azure lines, but was no longer in English. The runes were High Speech with the odd one beyond Liam's limited arcane vocabulary, and there were drawings as well. Farther on were more pages with more runes and more drawings.

At first Liam had no idea what he was looking at. Then he turned a page and something in the drawing caught his eye. As he traced the shapes and translated some of the runes he knew Liam was suddenly aware of what he held.

Apparently David could read him like a large-print children's book, because he chuckled the instant Liam knew.

"Consider it a gift," he said, closing the book and folding my hands over it. "Or perhaps a bribe, in exchange for entering mage society." Liam's grip spasmed tighter and for a moment he'd folded the grimoire in half.

Liam took a breath – partly to focus on the Hallow's calming resonance – and banished the shared magesight so as to have no other distractions. To David he presented his poker face: the cause of the dissolution of Liam's second relationship.

"Thank you for this gift. It is most appreciated and shall be treasured most carefully." Liam took another deep, calming breath. "But please don't bring up the fact that my only choices are 'leave the city' and 'get bent over a barrel.' Being told I'm suspected of being a Banisher because I'm antisocial and assertive was one of the least pleasant experiences of my magical career."

"It's good you recognize you're antisocial, but it's far less that you're assertive and a great deal more that you're just plain mean sometimes," he replied bluntly. "And I think you know it. Frankly it's aggravating. You're my best friend, and I hate to say this, but it needs saying: be nice. You regularly touch the most revolting of bodies yet you're unable to muster the self-control necessary to hold your tongue?"

Liam cringed, partly with unwarranted anger and partly from guilt. After a moment to wrestle his temper he replied. "I feel like I'm brushing my teeth with broken glass and lemon juice when I try and speak with them."

"I've watched you 'speak' with other mages." David sighed. "You start pleasant but then you turn nasty for no reason whatsoever."

"Then you weren't listening to the same conversation." Liam stroked the grimoire's spine, casting a minor illusion on it to disguise it as the novel "Me Two". "I have no patience for bullies, fools and arrogant assholes. You know this."

"I do. It's just a pity that you're a hypocrite." Liam's eyebrows shot up and his mouth worked soundlessly. "I would like you to try and review your actions through a calm eye. Your words, your thoughts, acts, everything that you've done while interacting with mages. Sit in that Hallow and meditate. I know how good your memory is. This-" he pulled the grimoire from Liam's hands and replaced it on the bookshelf. "-can wait. You need to really, truly think about how you've been treating the others." Still stunned Liam allowed himself to be navigated to a sitting position, where David left him to his thoughts.

No spell at his command could have sobered Liam faster than his friend's words.

This wasn't something Liam would have tolerated from Nick, nor would he: the instincts of his wolf wouldn't permit it. He recognized Liam as the alpha, and for better or worse he would support his lover.

David, on the other hand…

_Am I arrogant?_ The thought ran in circles, chased by the similar _Am I a bully?_ and _Am I a fool?_

Liam thought back to the old Hierarch, to how stubborn he'd been, how unwilling to accede to what was ultimately a reasonable request: become more active.

Foolish.

Further, to Fjord: a strange mage coming into his place of business without warning. Liam was mean from the instant he'd identified him as a mage, cold and blunt in his responses. Liam had given Fjord no chance to show one face or another; had simply assumed an antagonistic stance.

Arrogant.

The Silver Ladder had courted Liam several days ago – Tucker and Kisagi – and he'd laid a trap for them. Their Twilight-bound backup had been there as a precautionary measure, completely uninvolved unless Liam proved belligerent. He wasn't even supposed to be aware of their existence, yet had taken it as a challenge. Summoning Nick to attempt to redress a perceived imbalance, and instead knocked the scales down through heavy-handed tactics and oversensitivity.

**Bully.**

Liam looked down at his hands, touched old scars on the knuckles of his left hand, rubbed the stain of pencil lead buried in the palm of his right.

_What's wrong with me?_


End file.
